Monday, December 14, 2015

Mission Trip Miracles

            Every set of classes here at MOVE ends with a student-led mission trip to the Mayan villages in the southern part of Belize. This classes’ trip was very memorable. The trip ended up being cut a day short so that we could spend more time with some visiting family members from North Dakota.  We loaded up the bus and left home at 4:00 am Tuesday morning. Despite the rainy spells, all was going well. That is, it was going well until about 9:00 am. The bus had no more power to make it up and down the mountains. We pulled over on the side of the road to see the damage. The guys worked on the bus for about an hour before we pulled out. However, it was only about two miles before we stopped again: no power. Unfortunately, this time the work wasn’t going to be just one hour. The fuel pump had to be removed and worked on before we could move. The first time Rubén took the pump out, he finished the work in nine hours. This time, he was able to do the whole process in less than three hours! We were finally able to get back on the road and head south. 13 hours after leaving MOVE we arrived in San Jose. The last nine miles of the trip took an hour and a half because of the condition of the road.
            All week the students had planned activities for reaching out to the Mayan people. I truly felt like we were blessed with having knowledge above our own capacity because we fixed things we never knew how to fix before. We truly saw what God is willing to do for those who are willing even if unskilled. Much to our dismay, it rained everyday. Nevertheless, we continued as much as possible. Walking, working, and living in the rain are uncomfortable. However, there was a problem much greater than temporary comforts: the rain causes the river to rise. The original plan was to leave Sunday at 4:00 am from San Jose to return home. The guys went Sunday morning to check the condition of the road out only to find that a bridge was completely underwater. With waist deep rushing water, there would be no way to cross the bridge. (There is a road that goes out the other way from the village and connects to the main road. Instead of 9 miles to the main road it is only 2 miles to the main road. However, the road does not have bridges to cross over the creeks and is therefore unusable for vehicles.) Sunday was quite challenging for many people due to the fact that we did not know if or when we would be leaving. If the call came to leave, it would have to be an immediate decision with little time to get ready. The day passed without news of a trip home. Some cried while others rejoiced at the chance to stay longer.
            Monday morning was met with new hopes. Although we were running low on food, God continued to provide. Certain students had decided to embrace the situation and make the best of what time they could spend in the village. A number of us started going from house to house to visit. As we were walking back to camp to retrieve some items, a man drove by us and asked if we were going to be leaving. He had just crossed the bridge and was immediately leaving before more rain came. We practically ran up the hill with excitement. The guys decided that it was a now or never chance to leave. They blew the bus horn as the signal that all MOVE members needed to return to camp and pack up. (Afterwards we joked about how we felt like the children of Israel who we always a moments’ notice away from fleeing.) The whole camp area was torn down, cleaned up, and packed in less than one hour.
            The cleanup was fast, but since the road was still a terrible mess, we would not be driving fast. Prayers and hymns were going up constantly as we passed over holes and mud. Finally, we arrived at the flooded bridge. The water had definitely gone down, but there was still doubt. The passengers had to stay on the bus so that it would have enough weight. This was scary because that also meant that if the current were too strong, all the passengers would be swept downstream as well. The time was ticking to make a decision. The rain clouds looked as if they could burst open at any time leaving us stranded on the wrong side. With some holes newly refilled, Jeff barreled into the rushing water with Ruben fast behind in the grey truck. Tears of joy were cried as the rain began to fall just minuets after we crossed.

            God is faithful to us. Sometimes we don’t always understand God’s timing, but we can trust that He knows best. Maybe we needed to be in San Jose just one extra day so that one person could come to know God. Maybe the man from the village getting a ride out in the bus felt God’s presence and therefore wanted to know more about our all-powerful Protector. Maybe we won’t ever know on this side of heaven the reason why, but we can be certain that God was with us all the way.

Thursday, July 23, 2015

If Only I Could

               I recently read an online article about the feelings that those back home have when a close friend or family members moves to a far away country. It described feelings of dejection and aloneness. Maybe even implying that the one who moved away did not care much for those “back home.” I have been thinking a lot about that article and how I believe it to be true, but only half of the story. Because, what people may not realize is that those who have gone far from home have similar feelings. It hurts to think that I am not going to be there to see my niece until she is almost one year old. I feel like a bad friend when I am unable to go to a dear friend’s wedding. I wonder if I seem like a stranger to some of my best friends when I haven’t seen them in months or years. I am torn to imagine that maybe I am going to miss the last family reunion that my grandparents will attend. It is not that I don’t want to be a part of those things; rather it is if only I could be a part of all of them. However, I feel that God has given me a call to serve Him in a place that happens to be far from where I was. And I am learning to trust that He has a wise plan for my future and would not lead me so if He felt there was a better way. It would be easy for me to move back home, find a “normal job”, and attend all those specials events. Life as a missionary is by no means easy. Learning who you are and figuring out all your faults is not very comfortable. Trying to live with others who are going through the same process makes it even more complicated. But through it all, I am glad that God is refining me. Sometimes I wish that a piece of the birthday cake could be saved for me in the freezer, and when I come home the next time I can eat it and look at pictures and hear stories about how it all happened. Sometimes I wish that I could teleport myself to my grandparents’ house for family reunion so that I could see my whole family together once again. Sometimes, I wish that I had unlimited Internet so that I could at least video Skype with all my friends and family back home. Reality doesn’t always fulfill my wishes, but I understand better all the time how God seems to work out everything in His perfect timing. So when I cannot be there on your special day, please remember that I am thinking of you and praying that God gives you success in whatever you may do for Him.

Wednesday, April 22, 2015


We are on a week break between 1st and 2nd semester. Some students have gone home, but most are still here. This afternoon, as I was cleaning the house, a storm started to build up. I went out on the veranda to try and enjoy the cool breeze. Suddenly, it became a super violent storm with high-speed winds, torrential rains, and hail. I noticed that some of the kids were out collecting fallen mangos, but they could not hear my screams to find shelter. I rushed downstairs to get them into safety. I told all the girls to go up to the hostel, but found that we could not walk along the veranda because of strong winds and hail. The water was rushing like a river down the stairs from the roof. Chilling, ankle-deep water covered our path to the hostel. When we finally got through, we found the bathroom was backing up and flooding the hostel. The girls instantly started working to move the water out of their home. I hurried to my house to discover a soaked bed, Bible and floor. I managed to close the windows against the strong winds. All the wet things were for sure ruined, especially my Bible. I put it on the dry couch and rushed back to aid in the girls’ bathroom disaster. With the help of the boys, they were able to get the water level down. However, the small girls’ dean’s apartment is under construction and, consequently, very open. With more help from the boys, we were able to remove most of the water. As I headed back to my house, I dreaded the thought of what my waterlogged Bible would look like. A feeling of relief and extreme thankfulness swept over me as I saw that not even one page was damp!

            Two of our big mango trees fell, but no one was hurt. A number of windows were shattered, but none hurt. The electricity is out and a water pipe burst, but all are safe in the arms of God. “Under His wings you shall take refuge.” Ps. 91:4

Wednesday, April 1, 2015


            In India, there are so many people. You will almost never go more than 0.5 seconds without seeing or hearing someone. This is quite a challenge from a country girl who is used to going for hours without ever hearing a car pass or seeing another person. Last Sabbath, my friend and I went for a little picnic to try and get as far away as possible from all the noise and people. Consequently, we walked over a mile to get there. We finally settled on a small hill shaded by a small tree and overlooking a cow pasture. The only noise was the sound of the water pump carrying water to the rice paddies. The only people to be seen were on pathways far from us. I almost forgot that I was in India, but not quite.

            We were able to enjoy a simple lunch and a few minutes of relaxation. As we were getting packed up to leave, we noticed an older woman walking through the field. On her head she carried a large bowl. Inside the bowl one could see cow pies stacked up. Many of the women in this country will mix the dung with their hands then form patties to be left in the sun to dry. These dried patties can then be burned as fuel for the fire. She, obviously, was collecting her supplies to continue her work. As we saw her from afar, we motioned for her to come closer. She hesitantly came over to us. We took out the unused bread, left over tomatoes, and uneaten watermelon to share with her. She reached out her filth covered hands with such gratitude as tears streamed down her sun-aged face. No words could be shared with her, but in reality, I think that our hug was more than words could say.

Wednesday, March 18, 2015


            This last weekend we had communion with the students. Like in America, we split up the girls and the boys for the actual washing part. One of the little girls asked if she could do it with me so I agreed. After we had each washed the other’s feet, we sat and waited for the others to finish. Unbeknownst to me, another woman wanted to wash my feet. One little difficulty was that she didn’t speak English so I could not mention to her that I had a partner. She proceeded to pray for me then wash my feet. The part that hit me the most, was that after she washed and dried my feet, she kissed both of them. It really made a strong impression on me that a woman, or better said a complete stranger, was willing to give her very best to me. I was inspired to realize that I should be willing to give my very best for a stranger if God grants me opportunity. I pray that you would be willing as well.